Dances With Centaurs
by dimbledar23
Summary: Two boys, one hidden ancestry that would shock generations, and one chance to create something MAGIC...
1. Cocktail Dresses and Familiar Faces

**Hi guys/gals! This is the first chapter of my first FanFic. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments would be really appreciated – good or bad, I'm not fussy By the way, there is a lot of "A Very Potter Musical" and "A Very Potter Sequel" references in there. Both productions are by Starkid and are definitely worth checking out on YouTube. Enjoy ...**

It was the day after the great Battle of Hogwarts. Relief hung in the air as real as the promise of tomorrow (and a serious amount of Redvines). Away from his friends, Harry wandered along the corridors of his school in disbelief that he could live his life without fear that he would die before the day was out, with no hope for the future; that any Redvine could be his last. He kicked a chunk of rubble and watched as it bounced across the ground and landed behind one of the only pillars he had seen that was recognisably intact. _Swish!_ Pink material? No, it couldn't be... Umbridge? For a second his mind flicked to his memory of her appearance; tall, muscular, with a hint of very sexy man. Ah – how excited little Colin Creevey used to get at the sight of her. Poor kid. No one ever did tell him that she was a woman before he perished. Still, it was rumoured that even the great Albus Dumbledore had assumed that she was in fact a handsome man that liked to dress up as a ministry official with an interest in cat memorabilia than an ugly woman. Before he could continue, his pondering was cut short as familiar pale face poked out from the pillar. "Psssst!" Draco whispered. Harry stared in disbelief at his fuchsia-clad enemy.

"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing in pink? That is the most atrocious colour to put with your skin tone! I mean Snape would drop down dead if he saw a Slytherin looking like that. Oh, hang on, Snape _is_ dead. Whoops. Should probably tell someone about _that._ Not that anyone would care. Horrible git gave me homework the night before I started on my quest to destroy parts of Voldemort's soul. ...

"Shut UP! Potter!" Malfoy hissed as he waved his arms frantically and nervously wriggled on the spot in the same way a toddler would when on the brink of wetting themselves. "No-one can know I'm here... hang on! Do you really think that about my dress?" At first glance Harry thought that Malfoy was wearing a fuchsia robe, but no, it was a dress. To Harry's interest, Draco had somehow gotten himself into a floor length, slashed at the hip, one shoulder, golden trimmed cocktail dress. Ouch.

"Dress? Dear Gok, Malfoy! Not only does that thing completely wash you out, and would make any Death Eater want to use the killing curse on themselves, but that cut does nothing for you figure! I would have gone for..." He stopped. _What was he doing? Malfoy did NOT need to know about his secret LOVE of Gok Wan. Not that he could help it – living under those stairs from the ages of four to ten meant that he could hear EXACTLY what was on the television day and night for six years, and Aunt Petunia had a love of dear Gok. What could he say? Old habits die hard._ "Ahem, yes, well... Malfoy. What was I saying? Oh yes, ahem..." *Awkward Turtle*Malfoy continued to wiggle and wave to the point that Harry thought he would fall over and his curiosity could hold no longer. "Malfoy, why are you squirming like that?"

"Oh, it's my Louie Spence impression, do you like it?" _Wow._

"I thought you were just nervous...?"

"Damn! Why didn't I think of that... Nervous!" Malfoy stopped abruptly and stood up, his face inches away from Harry's, his slight embarrassment displayed in the pinkness of his snowy cheeks, but with the determination of a prima ballerina burning in his eyes. "Potter, just forget all of this for a moment. There's something I need to tell you. And Potter, call me Draco."


	2. BFFs and Glittery Stilettos

**Hi again! Here it is, Chapter 2. I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment – frankly, I'm just happy that people fancy reading my work. Again, enjoy ...**

"Ok, Draco, what are you doing here? Why now? I mean your family has just been shamed beyond belief – I mean when you lot scarpered yesterday, Hermione and I were like, 'Shut _up_!', and there was some serious gossip going around in the girls' dormitory last night..."

"Potter! I mean Harry! Shhhh!" Draco fretted. _Woah! Someone was being moody! _Harry thought_. Still, that made him seem almost cuter in a way..._ "Harry, listen, we need to find somewhere private. I need to talk to you. _Please._" Harry eyed Draco dubiously; watched as he quivered where he stood, saw the desperation in his eyes. Harry was desperate too. He connected with Draco, in a BIG way – at least he thought he did. For too long he had learned to feel nothing but fear, determination and anger. No one had ever taken this much notice of him before; always practically ignored, hidden from the public, devoid of recognition. Well, all apart from Ginny who was nice and all, but he had been trying to get some space from her recently. Obviously it was kind of her to teach him how to kiss well, but he only ever saw her as a friend, really. Harry suspected she was getting too attached for her own good, at least, for her own good as one of his BFFs. Ron had noticed it too, demonstrated his brotherly duties by speaking gruffly and saying crap like how family was everything to him, and that he wouldn't treat Harry as his "mate" (or as Harry put it: BFF) if he did anything to Ginny. Still, it was his life and he was not about to let a ginger moron control his creative free spirit. And so, he forgot all of the bogey-bat jinx threats from Ron and his on/off BFF Ginny and whispered:

"Ok, let's find somewhere private, but at least let me find you something better to wear than that lump of fashion crap in my dorm room." Harry reasoned that it should be empty, after all, everyone was too busy either kissing girls that resembled night trolls, revelling in the idea that they were a serious legend, or clearing away the magical pyrotechnics that McGonagall had not _strictly_ allowed to be used as defences in the battle.

The odd, if complementary couple, sneaked their way to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, constantly under the threat of discovery by fellow students, teachers, ghosts, house elves – it really was a wonder how they got there without so much as seeing a glimpse of anyone else. Almost like it was meant to be that they confided in each other in this way... Funny that.

Harry padded along stealthily as Draco tottered along behind him in glittering stilettos. His inner fashionista screamed and wailed, but he held his hatred of the shoes in. Why? Well, he had already insulted the dress within an inch of what he felt Draco could take, but thought that he might push him over the edge into fashion suicide if the shoes were verbally shredded too.

Finally, they reached the ornate oil painting of the Fat Lady. She had always understood Harry's tendencies to bring boys from other houses to his dorm for midnight chats, hair braiding, manicures, and of course, exchanges of fierce gossip from around the school. Harry coughed politely to obtain the attention of an old friend, and waited for her question.

"Password?"

"Unicorn turds." The door swung open, and the boys stepped in.


	3. Dark Pasts and Fire Whisky

**Hello again! This is Chapter Three of my very first FanFic. I have nothing more to say than enjoy, and TTFN...**

Draco sat on Harry's bed in the boy's Gryffindor dormitory. Was this all a dream? He was actually here, here and _wanted. _Albeit in his favourite outfit that, in the eyes of a public saviour, was, well _not very nice. _Seriously, he'd learnt to walk in 6 inch heels for that boy and he'd- well it didn't really matter now...

Harry drew something from his trunk.

"Uh, um Draco, I've got a pair of cute skinny jeans that should fit you, a Nirvana shirt, a _really_ nice scarf, a knitted beanie and a pair of converse. If you wanna, uh, well I'll just turn away while you get changed..." _He really didn't have too, _Draco thought with undeniable sincerity. _Hang on, Draco, he doesn't know yet. Save the romantic thoughts until after her knows the truth..._

Within minutes, Draco was changed and looking _very_ nice. Similar to what Harry was wearing, understated, but still very chic. Definitely more attractive than the whole Katy Perry-on–the-red-carpet look. Definitely.

Struggling to take his emerald eyes away from his newly dressed companion, Harry turned away and tried to clear his mind. "So Draco, you wanted to tell me something?" Why hadn't he asked about the change in Draco's character; why hadn't he asked about the strange outfit, why hadn't he asked why the tables had turned in a way that made him feel more hopeful than he ever had before? The only answer was this: that the circumstances had become such that he finally felt like everything was right in his life, and he could not bear to mess anything up – well, he could afford to mess up Draco's dress sense a little bit. In fact, if they were going to become more than enemies, Draco's dress sense _had_ to change.

"Ok well, yes, I had something to tell you. God, I practised telling you this over and over in my head. How I've dreamt of this moment... since last night. But I supposed on some very deep and meaningful level I've always known that you and I understood each other. You have no idea how excited I used to get at the prospect of hurting your friends and insulting you – but I now know that all of the crazed teenage angst stemmed from something deeper and more meaningful. I finally understood what all of my feelings mean in the single moment that I finished reading Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. Yes, it was probably the crappiest book I've ever read, and yes, there was very little mention of magic, and _yes_, I am team Jacob... That book taught me that my hatred of the world stemmed from love. A love that I had to bury deep because of my hidden past and what was my dark present. Yes, I know what you are thinking, it's all very dramatic, but I assure you, dear Harry, that my past can now guide me to a brighter future. But before I explain all of this to you, I must also add that I am very drunk right now," _it all made sense now,_ "and that fire whisky and liquid luck really does make you feel like you are walking on clouds..." Draco switched from his dreamy expression to that of a more serious, desperately sad one. Harry continued to stare at Draco, amazed at how he could even speak after all of the wizard booze... _Thank God,_ _he was drunk when he read that horrible book,_ Harry thought, _I would have felt so mean slapping him, had he been in his right mind._

Harry sat down on the bed next to Draco, conscious that Draco was very likely to wet himself if he started laughing or crying due to the amount of wizard juice in his system. _Thank God he'd seen Hermione perform that anti-bed-wetting charm she'd used when Ron used to have nightmares about anti-ginger-activists..._

"Harry, to fully understand the trauma of my past, you must journey back with me in you mind; however, I must warn you that you may not like what you find. I will need your full concentration. Are you ready Harry?"

"Let me just use this anti-bed-wetting charm and then, yes, I'm ready."

**Hi! Me again. If the mood takes you, leave a comment. Still, thanks for reading, and Chapter 4 is on its way...**


	4. Dances With Centaurs

**Hi again! It's me. This is my fourth and final chapter of this story. It is the longest of the four and will explain the title and hopefully provide an interesting twist to the story so far. Please leave a comment and tell your friends! Enjoy!**

"Harry, a long time ago, centuries in fact, when the mountains we see before us were hills, and when MacGonagall was a teenager, a dodgey, if sometimes fun, curse was put on my family." Draco tested the old pretend-to-yawn-hand-over-the-shoulder-trick over Harry's shoulder as they stared out of the window in Harry's dormitory at the Black Lake, and the picturesque backdrop of mountains behind it. _Harry didn't notice a thing!_ Thought Draco gleefully. _Wow! This is cosy, _Harry thought_, I can't believe he didn't think I wouldn't notice that trick when I saw it! The amount of times I've tried that one on Ron... _

"As legend tells, when my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a teenager like me and you, one day, whilst in the room of requirement, my grandfather and his closest friend we sitting near the vanishing cabinet. My grandfather's friend suddenly jumped into the closet, half closed the door, and then leapt straight back out and told my grandfather that he was in love with him. (Something about making a statement and being quite cheeky, or so I'm told). My grandfather laughed in his face, and told him that he was being stupid and that, if he was going to tell people about this, he no longer wanted to know him. Little did he know that his actions come back and bite him sharply on the ass." Harry shuffled slightly closer to Draco, hoping he wouldn't notice. He did. "That night, the young boy that had been so cruelly taunted snuck into the dormitory of my grandfather in a crimson robe and golden winkle pickers, woke up my ancestor and cast an enchantment on him. He cried, "I damn that thee callous Fangor – oh, yes, Malfoy, is not my actually family name, but I'll come to that later - and all of your male offspring, are to be born of my own circumstances and live forever with the consequences of your hate, until I am truly accepted by you. You alone can break this enchantment Fangor. You alone." The boy was never seen again, Harry. No one knows how; he had no broom, could not disaperate, and all of the school broom sticks were securely locked away, but, though the grounds were searched, he was never found. The next day, my grandfather could not be sure whether what he had seen was real, so he arranged to meet with his girlfriend. As the story goes, they kissed and... nothing. The spark had gone, and my ancestor suddenly found himself ferociously attracted to his male potions tutor.

Remembering the words of the enchantment, his immediate reaction was to apologise, but, as I said, the boy as nowhere to be found.

No one but he knew about the enchantment, and, forsaking his own happiness, he married a woman, and had children, and it was only on his deathbed that he revealed to his son about what had happened. Obviously this explained a lot to the son, who, until this point had just been very confused... Still, instilled with the homophobia of his father, this boy also hid his true feelings and got married and had children, hating what he knew he was, and making sure that he taught his son to bully and terrorise any children that he found were gay. Was it pride? Was it jealousy? Both. And, again, it was only on his death bed that he confessed all of this to his son. This tradition continued through the generations right through to me..."

Draco looked nervously at Harry. He had just come out. There had been nothing up to this point that even hinted that Draco had even been gay. Oh, well apart from the dress - and the heels... Just something he liked; he was aware that not every gay man does. Harry returned the stare, and for a second they just sat, inches apart and stared. It was Harry that finally broke the silence.

"Draco, all of this explains so much, but I still need answers. I never understood why your family joined Voldemort's little bitch posy, and why you never go outside, and now, why me? Why have you decided to tell me of all people this? Because I'm guessing you don't have some incredible explanation that lays this out to me..." Draco interrupted.

"Er, Harry? Actually I do... Um, so, where was I? Right. Still, the male Fangors sought acceptance from somewhere, an emotional outlet, after all, the time only time they could truly be themselves was when they were upholding the tradition on their death beds... and so, another tradition was born; dancing with centaurs. At the demise of their fathers, the new sons would be notified of the whereabouts of the annual centaur dancing jamboree. One night a year where they could express who they were, and find comfort in dancing and wearing garish colours. Unfortunately, the mer-people discovered this, and, were less understanding than the centaurs. Annually, the mer-people would ambush the Fangors that attended and relentlessly taunt them, until, one year, one of my ancestors confronted the mer-King to a challenge, that, if he won, the mer-people would be forced to leave them alone. However, if the mer-king won, it was agreed the Fangor's would be forced to change their family name to Malfoy, which, in mermish tongue means "Dances with Centaurs". Obviously, the human lost – no one is quite sure what the challenge was, something to do with who could pee the furthest I think– and so, the name of my family was changed, and the Malfoys could see no choice but to stop attending the jamborees to avoid the humiliation.

To this day, you will never see a Malfoy stand within a hundred feet of that damned lake, for the mer-people are sure to swim to the surface and taunt us. That's I'm so pale. I mean, it's hard to get a tan when if you set foot outside, you will be ambushed by homophobic fish people. Still, I hate to think how my ancestors felt, unable to express their true feelings; at least my future can change... Are you with me so far Harry?" Harry nodded intently, and slid his hand across to Draco's. At what seemed to be the same time, they grasped hands and squeezed them tightly. Draco continued. "Obviously, without this outlet of happiness, the Malfoy's descended into sadness and self hate, and, more importantly, hatred of those that loved who they were. Namely, muggle-borns and muggle-loving- purebloods. That is, until my father learned of our predicament when his father died. He knew that he could not stand by and watch-" Harry straightened up suddenly.

"Of course! Lucius Malfoy is _gay_! I mean, I should have guessed from his long peroxide tresses. That's not his natural colour is it? I mean I swear that time I freed Dobby, his roots were showing a bit. Come to think of it, they were a little bit ginger... Oh, sorry you were talking." Harry turned away bashfully. Draco decided that he definitely looked that little bit cuter when he was blushing...

"That's OK. Anyway, my father decided that if he could not be happy as he was, he would find a way to change himself, break the curse, and find a kind of happiness that would not just last one, free, frivolous night a year. He sought and confided in the only person he believed was a strong enough wizard to break the enchantment. The enchantment, Harry, is the reason that my father joined Voldemort. Voldemort tricked my father into believing that if he pledged the allegiance of an entire bloodline from his point on, Voldemort would change us. Obviously, he never did, and I knew that he never would, after all, I knew that under a harsh, peroxide exterior, my father was just someone that wanted to show true love and have that person love him back. Still, my father knew of the risks of being on the side of the "bad guy" and told me of the enchantment on my first year at Hogwarts in case his mission of love failed if he was killed." Thoughout this, as Draco struggled against tears, Harry held his hand and lovingly stroked his back – still, of course, admiring his gorgeous outfit. This was definitely one of his best. "Ok, I have to finish, you need to know Harry, it's just talking about my family like this, it's been so hard, but I'm so glad you're here for me.

When my father told me of the curse, I knew that alleging with Voldemort was not the answer, and so, I looked for a better way to break free from it. Of course, I know that if I break the enchantment, I will not change because, quite frankly, enchantment or no enchantment, I am _definitely_ gay, but I believe that I can save my male and nephews and other relatives the sadness of being defined by something that was not your fault, something that can be hard to come to terms to. Obviously, I believe that love is love, and I am no longer affected by the haters, but I know that this is not the same for everyone. I'm afraid, Harry, that this now explains my horrible behaviour against you. Beneath all of the angst, hormones and awareness that my future self might be a proud, loveless moron, I knew that we had a connection, and I knew that once everything was over, one way or another, I would tell you all of this.

For the past six years, I have been thinking about the enchantment day and night, and I especially looked into the words that were used to imprison my family. I wondered how the unknown sorcerer that had bestowed such and effective enchantment had just disappeared into the night, and what the sorcerer meant when he said that we would be enchanted " ...until I am truly accepted by you." For years, the only conclusion I could draw was that this man gave no chance for my ancestor to apologise because he left so suddenly. Unfortunately, this did not help with the anger either, so I resorted in smoking weed to de-stress..." Harry turned sharply to face Draco, amazed and utterly shocked. "I'm joking! Good to see that you're listening though." Draco smiled a mischievous, impish smile, and Harry laid his head gently on Draco shoulder, and Draco bent his head to rest softly on his companions'. "Harry, I'm coming to the end of my story now, and, you may be slightly shocked, but I really don't want anything to get awkward between us. Seven years of awkwardness is enough for anyone." Harry said nothing, and Draco considered this a prompt to continue.

"It was on your quest to find the Deathly Hallows that I answered the first of my questions; how the wizard got away. It was by invisibility cloak Harry. And then I realised: currently, the only known wizard to be in possession of one of those at the time the curse was bestowed was one Ignotus Peverell; the third of the three brothers that the very story of the Deathly Hallows is about. I started thinking about what he meant about him being accepted by my ancestor, when, if you're going to sneak off into the night, it's hard to get an address to send an apology... And then it came to me." Draco lifted his head from Harry's slipped his hand from his grasp, and lifted his face directly in front of his own. He stared at the beautiful tone of his eyes and the smoothness of his skin. His voice, barely a whisper, he murmured, "I think that what Ignotus really meant was the part of him that lives on in every one of his descendants needed to be accepted by the part of my ancestor that lives in all of his descendants. You know that a part of Ignotus is still in you, even after hundreds of years, and I know that part of the original Fangor still resides in me... and, I, Draco Malfoy believe that you seek acceptance of this kind from me right now. Don't you Harry Potter?" Harry smiled impishly.

"You're right, Draco. Right for me. And there's only one way to find out if your theory is correct. Kiss me Draco."

**TA DA! This is the end of my story and I hope you enjoyed it. The message I wanted to get across is that, however, harmless it may seem, never judge a person if you don't like it when the tables are turned and you are in their shoes, regardless of the circumstances. Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment.**


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